


Those of us left behind

by LykkeTil



Category: Berserk
Genre: Angst and Feels, BDSM, Blood and Gore, Bloodplay, Damnit Miura get off your lazy ass and write more chapters, F/M, Just saying., M/M, Minor Character Death, Miura's bi-curious, Mouth Kink, Suicide Attempt, bad end scenario, or pansexual
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2016-01-10
Packaged: 2018-05-03 12:03:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 10,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5289950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LykkeTil/pseuds/LykkeTil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scene is set: Guts is finally going to destroy Griffith within his empire, exacting his life's goal.<br/>--So it should be, but Griffith is willing to yield his life under set circumstances. For what purpose? The leader who sacrificed everything for a more just world, the leader who abandoned his future for retribution... why are the two connected, even after all that has happened between them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> Hitting this chapter running!! This was planned to be 3 decent-sized chapters, but I'm on the third and not even halfway. (Drat...) Also - non-standardized names are non-standard. (Don't even get me started on the Gattsu/Guts and Isidro/Ishidoro debate...) Tried to keep things consistent in cannon characterization and names, as well as the speculation and theories I've got going. (Also, softcore sexual harassment in this chapter. Because we need more post-eclipse material. "Sorry,"...?)

“Gri- Griffith--!” 

The newly-angelic visage made no move, no obvious sign he heard the black knight aside from a casual blink. 

‘This is a dream, isn’t it? Did I fall asleep?’

Guts drew his sword, growling memories of Caska’s rape and his comrade’s deaths drowning out all rationality. “Bastard- Did you finally decide to stop hiding?”

“Guts. We need to talk.”

His mind raced, crawling with anticipation and anger. ‘Even if this is a dream, it’ll be practice for the real thing.’  
“You want to ‘talk’?” In his mind, Caska’s writhing form, the form of their child, corrupted, repulsive and ‘it’s all my fault- it’s all my fault- it’s -‘

“TOO - FUCKING - LATE!” Dragonslayer stabbed viciously between blue eyes suddenly flying out its reach, Griffith landing backwards softly, pulling out his sabre with a flourish. He tsked. 

“Same as ever.”

Hopping forward, the edge of his sword kissed the flat of Dragonslayer, bouncing just enough to keep both swords seconds apart from their masters as Griffith slipped between them. He landed a punch on Gut’s abdomen, the frame softening but unrelenting of his sword, returning back to his side as Guts swiped his retreating arm back, armor shrieking from impact. The whitette grunted, mind assessing all possible moves as his sword bit out towards his opponent, Guts shifting bluntly while his steps thundered in a blind rage - 

Ramming into the god headfirst and smashing the fragile-looking form into the rocks! Pinning Griffith’s hands underneath, teeth were snarling and opening to bite out the white neck -

As the teeth began to dive into soft flesh Guts found himself being dashed along the other side of the ground, eyes trying to focus in confusion and find their prey - there!

Femto’s black form drew in his eyes, and he was up, pulling himself by some foreign stamina, legs bashing the earth as he grew closer, his sword somewhere behind him -

‘Huh?’

Guts’ head reeled as he felt his body lift up and slam back down, his stomach crunching as he felt the urge to vomit. Seeing a glint of metal nearby, he jammed his hand in that direction and - 

Wham!

His hand felt crushed underneath Femto’s gaze. “Fight like a man, you bitch!” He howled, bile threatening to turn words into garbled heaving sounds. 

Wham! 

Wham! WhamWhamWhamWham! 

 

His body was pinned underneath an unflinching gaze. 

“You may best me at swords, but you can’t fight what’s formless,” gnashing teeth and snarled growls met his efforts. The demon sighed, shifting yet again. 

“Guts.”

Said man paused his struggling, eyes wide in fear and anger, confusion and sorrow. 

It was Gambino.

“-No, don’t you dare, don’t you -“

“Lookie here. The runt’s still alive,” the form known as Gambino shifted into a lecherous sneer. “I bet you whored yourself out to stay alive this long, boy. Like mother, like son.”

“Stop it- stop it! You fucking bastard, Griffith! I’LL KILL YOU!!” 

“Guts.” In a second, the image disappeared, replacing a distant Gambino with a too-near Griffith. 

“You wish to kill me, Guts? Fine. Do that. But not unless you promise me something.”

“What gibberish are you blathering now? You ask for promises after the shit you put everyone through?! You better be joking!”

“It is no joke,” he paused, mentally re-establishing a link to his improvised gravity fields. ‘We can do this the easy way or the - heck, you’ve never been one for ‘the easy way,’ have you?’ Griffith mentally winced at the memory of dislocating young Guts’ shoulder. ‘Well, change of tack.’ 

“Guts, the reason I came out here to meet you: you’re an unstable element among the gods.”

“The hell?” The black knight’s words came out slurred. 

Cooly, the angelic form drew closer to the bound form, forearms enclosed near the hardened warrior’s grimacing features. Savagely his lips bore down on him, tongue forcing them apart in a second as Guts’ jaw immediately bit down on the forceful assault. Deathly-cold fingers clamped over Guts’ mouth just barely short of cracking bones underneath, a muted yelp breaking through the wincing Femto. 

Wriggling, squirming worms ran thorough the immobilized fighter, his tongue thrashing to shove the offending creatures out or thrash them against his mouth, succeeding in making him feel like they were taunting him, using his movements against him to migrate and dig into his flesh. 

Numbing fingers ran their way over his jugular, patiently coercing a swallow. 

After all was still on both ends, the slender figure rose, spewing a mouthful of blood to the side as Guts started hacking, trying to dry-heave what he was forced to swallow. 

“You - I hope you enjoy chocking on your own blood, fucker,” his words lacked their usual punch, his head dizzy and lungs exhausted.

 

Said ‘fucker’ spat out an extra rivulet of blood from an intact tongue tip. “Well, that was an effective talk. I'll see you later, Guts.”

Giving one final glimpse at him, the king raised his hand and smacked it down...

 

Welcoming Guts to his nightmares.


	2. Violently Sad and Beautiful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently being "on the boat" is no longer a meme. 3 months for 1 cannon-month of time. I think we're making progress.  
> *Cough*  
> On that note, youtube 蘇打綠 sodagreen -【痛快的哀艷】. Without even intending it, describes the sentiment and tone of this series and this story well. (The official music video has English subtitles...) 
> 
> Quick sentiments and brief past/foreshadowing this chapter; don't worry, Caska's "okay," if that means anything.

\-------  
The scent of warm summers flooded the commander’s senses, shade from the tree he was under spotted his vision. Caska nuzzled him, and he became aware the scent of summer was from her.  
“Shh, Guts. Go back to sleep.”

“Caska,” he sighed, turning into her as his eyes flutter shut again. 

“What?” She laughed, “You’re sighing like an old man.”

“Nothing, it’s just that I wanted to say ‘I-’” 

“You could never protect me, Guts.”

“Caska, what are you saying?” He jerked to attention, a pit of dread surfacing from the depths.  
“Exactly what I meant: you could never protect me, Guts,” her face, pale as blue stained pink lips...

“I just wanted to be strong enough to love you,” her words to the noose around her neck. “CASKA!” Running, barehanded even if it were by his own strength, he’d save - 

Despite what little strength she had left, her legs kicked back his advances, her lungs gasping for the strength to push him back, pushing out her life- 

“No -“ her words straining screams to her tears, kicking, fighting with every last push for death -

 

“Guts! Guts, are you okay?” A strand of light warmed his consciousness within the dream, isolating him in warmth, drowning Caska in ever stilling shadows.... 

His arm reached out in a futile attempt, reaching for any fragment of the woman he knew. ‘Stop it, dumbass,’ he forced his arm to recoil, letting it hang limply. ‘It’s just a dream.’

“Are you okay, Guts?” Schierke’s voice sounded seconds away from a sob.

“Yeah.” 

Her consciousness wavered, crystalizing near him into a discernible form. A slight pause. “Just making sure,” her voice sounded hollow, quivering. “I should go, then.”

“Schierke,” he paused, trying to make something up. “I -“ Shit. “Can you please find Caska? Let me know if she’s okay?“ 

“Yeah,” she said softly.


	3. The Siege, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting things running in this chapter, might be a bit content-heavy on the war tactics. Trying to make logical (believable?) abilities given what's established cannon. (No Saiyans! Absolutely not...)
> 
> Laptop's going in for a repair soon.... the story's back-upped, but may cause delays depending on what issues need to be addressed. Either way, this chapter's yours.

His body felt uncomfortably warm where the light was, the crackling of pinecones and smoldering of heady foliage increasingly less comfortable. Turning his back to the light, he tried to push away at the earth, the phantom limb reaching for purchase.

‘Oh, that’s right.’

‘The meeting - that was more than a dream, wasn’t it?’ He suppressed a wave of nausea at the memory of the bugs. ‘That’s enough sleep.’ Righting himself, he stared at his companions pouring over leaflets and diagrams near the fire. 

 

“Perfect timing, Guts.” Serpico called back to him, looking up from lines that were scrawled in the dirt. Farnese handed their newcomer some water from the shared canteen, which was accepted gratefully. “We finished reconnaissance,” the blonde male paused, staring the hardened warrior in the eye:

“- - I think we can infiltrate and weaken Griffith’s defenses, Guts.” 

“And Caska- ?”

“With Rickert and Isma. They’ll have the protection of the merfolk in the sea and elf king on land. They’ll be fine.”

An exhale. 

“Doro, Iva, and Schierke are going to be our reconnaissance and intel. It’s too dangerous to have our base in this wooded area with threat of monsters and no real warrior-“

“Hey!” Ishi called.

“- but they would be equally exposed near the walls of the empire. They will accompany us through the walls into the subdivided towns, but will stay hidden among the residents. Being non-combattants,” (Farnese was left to pout at this moment) “they will attract less attention than a burley sword-weilder that reeks of death-“

“And a fool who looks like a sleeze-ball!” Isidoro stuck his tongue out. 

“Well, yes.”

“And the ‘weakening’ part?” Guts grunted out. 

“Well.... let’s just say it’s as best an idea as we have. From what we could gather from Puck, this guy - this, this..... person? He looks at you, right? And then...”

‘I get body-slammed,’ Guts’ mind deadpanned. 

“We thought, if we keep ‘im busy, he can’t attack you!!” Ishidoro thumbed-up the air as Guts mentally balked.

Serpico took this opportunity to clarify. “For base we have Schierke, Doro, and Ivarella. Schierke can open mental communication lines within the group and run interference against an enemy psyche: namely, Griffith. She’ll be unable to summon since she won’t be there, but even if that fails she can influence enemy temperaments or pull you back from Berserker. Ishidoro will provide physical back-up for Schierke, who will be casting charms and providing mental support.  
On the front lines, Puck will scout ahead possible routes within the layout Rickert told us, as well as provide first-aide. I can provide back-up and get close to him where you would pass out from the mark, Guts. With your daggers and my traps, hopefully we can pin him down.”

He continues, “It’s not a perfect plan, but given our current knowledge and how sharp the enemy is, we can’t risk alerting them with live experiments.”

“What about Zodd?”

“... we have Puck.”

A grim silence hung between all members present. Guts was the first to break the silence. “When?”

“We’re almost ready. Tomorrow.”

\--------

Serpico and Schierke rode in the wagon Ishidoro was able to hassle out of the local town, cloaked in what scampy clothes they could buy with their limited budget. (Ishidoro was soundly beaten after blowing their budget on drag clothes, which he subsequently got a refund for... Ahem.) It was decided for all tactful reasons that “Gaston” and “Severus” were to be battle-weary defectors traveling with their family. After some charming from Shierke, passable disguises and well-placed dirt clods made them look less familiar.

They passed by the gate with minimal effort, making their way through town to a vacant residence. Night watches were planned, leaving Guts to sleep for a while.

It was odd, a type of sullying kindness were not even his demon could reach him. He felt it pouring through the gates at their arrival, a suppressant that seemed to dampen his feelings into half-truths, resolve into a wavering question. 

‘Like a prey before it is consumed.’

He saw memories from back then, comforting and welcome as he lay with Caska, vowing to reclaim what was lost. 

 

\----- comforting and welcome as he lay with --- , vowing to reclaim what was lost. 

\----- comforting and welcome as he lay -- with who? Vowing to reclaim what was lost.

Something shattered in Guts’ mind as the dream broke, shattering the warmth into cold oblivion, his eyes searching for meaning as he glimpsed Schierke impaled by fangs, Ishidoro moaning softly as his broken body’s carried along by his limbs, intestines dragging his legs along... turning away, bursts of fresh blood stain what dark waters hide legs, arms, too many for one person. Farnese’s unblinking eyes are dangled in front of him, blood spurting from her detached head. Her eyes frozen in dead shock stare back his own fear as what remains of her is swallowed into a monster. 

Screaming as Dragonslayer is within his grasp, he starts running -

\- run where?

Screaming, the confused screams of Caska- where’s Caska? His soul being swallowed up by his demon - take this body, this soul, overpowered bastard--! 

Swinging his sword - 

 

Light smashes through Berserker, pain running itself through Guts’ flesh as the demon’s deathly howls break through the dream. 

 

\--------------------------------

Following the morning, the siege.

\-------------------------------

‘I wish you luck, Serpico, Guts.’ 

‘Good luck, everyone.’

‘GO GUTS! GO SERPICO! Kick Butt!!’

Guts grunted back on the telepathic link, a half-smile on his features. 

 

They set out, Shierke influencing their current progress in her astral form as they passed by numerous human attendants (and a few monster ones) at the service entrance leading into the main kitchens. 

If the usual attendants weren’t batting an eye at two grown thugs reeking of blood and carrying brown packages wrapped suspiciously like hilted swords, Shierke had a lot to do with that. It took some trial and error, but they found a door leading into the servant’s halls. A few sluggish bodies passed by, but fewer than the kitchens.

“Are we almost there?” Puck peeked through Guts’ bag.  
“Not yet. Still a few doors blocking passageways.”

‘Guys, I’m having trouble ... following along, the farther we go,’ Shierke’s voice softened.

‘Can you make it?’ Ishidoro’s thought wavered between all present. 

‘I’ll try. I’m sorry... it’s just so heavy here, it’s hard to move.’

Serpico winced. ’I guess we might be on our own then, Guts.’ 

‘Shit,’ he paused his movements, Serpico following suite. ‘Our plan hinged on Shierke being able to mentally exhaust Femto long enough to deal with him physically.’ The few employees around him began to stir nervously where they hadn’t before, ‘is this the limit of all I can do?’

Nervous as hell, Guts moved his legs, leading them further into the building -

‘Guts!’  
‘Guts!! No, you mustn’t!’ 

He turned a menacing eye towards his partner. “If that’s all we can do, turn back! I can’t let all this effort, all the risks we’ve been taking to go to hell!” Breaking his gaze, he turned towards Serpico. ‘I need you to go back to Ishi and our Sleeping Beauty. Pack up an’ get the hell outta Dodge.’

“Can we make it?” His gaze was unreadable, eyes searching every aspect of the knight’s for some tell.

‘You should go back. Farnese is waiting for you. ....I’ve been through worse.’ There was some hint of remorse; a lie, perhaps? Guts was the strongest, most capable warrior of the group.... The wind master nodded. Quickly, he dug through his bag. 

“Puck,” Guts shifted his gaze towards his pouch, seeing his companion. “I’m leaving. Are you staying or going?”

“Leaving?” He looked towards Serpico. “Leaving where?” He was unsettled by the atmosphere. “You’re not going to fight him alone, are you? Guts?” A flat expression was the fairy’s only answer. 

“Serpico, please take care of him.”  
“Guts, are you insane?! Even when you were a poop-head, even when you were cruel and mean and sad, I still--“ he started crying, unabashedly as his words came out in squeaks.

“Even when I was a ‘poop-head,’ huh?” Guts exhaled, gently scooping out the fairy. “I've never called you ‘friend’ before, have I?” 

Puck shook his head. 

Guts frowned a bit, grimacing as he searched for words. 'Friend' always felt like an empty sentiment, even now. “I need you to leave.... as my friend, Puck. If they catch you, they’ll kill you. You won’t be able to escape, like your circus days. I’m not worth enough dead to that bat-freak, and I’ve certainly been through a lot more than he can dish out. I’m asking this of you because you’ll be safe, Puck. Maybe even safe enough to bust me out.” The corner of his mouth lifted a bit to that sentiment. 'Maybe that's asking a bit too much.'

“Ngh-“ Puck hiccuped. 

“Come on, Puck,” Serpico scooped up the fairy from Guts. “It’s bad enough one of us is crying.” 

“Here. Take my share of Puck-dust. You’ll need it.” Turning his gaze above, he asks: ‘Shierke. Can you try to accompany him further? We can make it out on our own.’

‘I’ll try - I’ll try as hard as I can, Guts -' 

“Quit stalling and get lost. I’ve got a bad feeling we’ve been noticed,” Guts unwrapped his sword as the halls started shaking under the oncoming stampede...

Wasting no more time, Puck and the wind master dashed towards a window and jumped out, cloak gracing him among the air currents. 

“Show off,” he grunted under his breath. A rhinosaurus-beast hurtled through the door beside him and charged after Guts for the kill.  
“HUAAAA!” In one fell slice Guts sliced through its middle, hacking blindly near his side at the next oncoming monsters prepairing to strike. Flinging blood onto the surge of enemies assailing him, a twisted smile graces his features. 

“What? No ‘surrender or die’? The welcoming committee sure is understaffed!” He rushes a running thrust low through the lines of warriors crowding through the hall, slicing off a few uncovered shins before dodging a couple swipes. "Come on, you sad bastards! Today's a good day to die!"

 

“Halt.” 

The voice cut through the clamour of numerous raging bodies, despite the calm control it exuded. All company present stilled, even the frenzied Black Knight. 

 

‘It’s his Royal Bastard.’

 

“Welcome, Guts.” A beatific smile on a face far too familiar.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is fun.... certainly no 3-chapter work, but pretty pleased with its progress. (Too fast? Too slow? Bah.) Trying to keep cohesion and momentum. The road's as challenging getting to the initial idea as it is fun keeping theme and tone in the original story. Vivre le horreur! Vagina dentata! (Make it happen, Miura. We're counting on you.)
> 
> \----
> 
> Bonus content for all my readers! (In a chapter to come a bit later):
> 
> “Knowledge is the root of all evil, it seems,” Caska smiled at him.
> 
> “No - no, - “ Guts shivered at the sight, backing up from the figure laying on the bed before him. 
> 
> “The desire to protect someone,” Caska licked her lips as she stood up, “is only as effective as a sentiment shared.” 
> 
> “You -“
> 
> The figure kept up its steady advance. “‘Bastard’? ’Whore’?”
> 
> Without thinking, the back of the knight’s hand smacked the figure against the wall.


	4. The Siege, Pt.2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4VnLY_iQxGU  
> Demdy. Click on that magical goodness.
> 
> ((The sentiment's real, yo.))

White hair flurried around where Dragonslayer quickly appeared, armored hand bluntly pushing the blade off-kilter as he threw a punch to Guts’ middle, retreating in time for an uppercut to barely graze his jaw. Pain burst in spasming clusters from his brain and jaw from the hit, dizzy as his reflexes were confused...

‘Guts! Guts, I’m running interference as best as I can on Griffith’s psyche!’ He grunted thankfully at the little witch, parrying a swipe at his chest. Steeling his gaze, he shoots an ominously happy grin. ‘I can do this---‘

 

“Retreat, everyone! This is an order!” The god called out as he blocked an attack to his heart with his wristguard. He drew his sword grunting at the flesh bled freely, stabbing in a flurry of attacks as both men were gradually becoming matched in speed and intensity. 

 

‘Shit... Schierke, how long do you have?’ 

The witch gave a hesitant pause. Both sides of the battle gave little leeway, Guts charging with brute force and direct action, the Emperor flourished artifice and thrust forwards, attacking with every dodge, dodging after every attack. Berserker’s shell sang as his armor deflected a lance, and the Knight threw an arm-cannon in the general direction, grin widening further at the pained screams he heard. 

 

‘--Three minutes! Three minutes, Guts!’ Schierke called.

 

‘I’ll finish this quickly, then.’ Downcutting, stabbing upwards towards the demon, trying to corner him for the final blow as he dodged to Gut’s right, sword curving momentum towards the Hawk’s middle - -!

 

’Guts!!’ Schierke screamed, a sound shaking him to his core. 

 

And in that second Griffith summersaulted himself out of Dragonslayer’s way, sabre breaking into pieces for its master as a foot smashed its way on Guts’ head with the full force of gravity and the king’s armored weight. 

‘Berserker - I need to go into Berserker!’ His mind reeled from the damage, dizzy as the world spun and undulated. ‘Damnit, I can’t defend in this state.’ The demon within him surged, his mind pulling up the loathing sentiments for the demon to feast upon...

‘Ready, Schierke?’ His muscles steadied, tensed as his eyes fell shut. 

 

Fully isolated, the whitette shifted into Femto mode, backing up a couple of paces out of reach as he placed gravity binds as quickly as he could. 

 

A giggle reached from inside his mind, the image of Schierke being embraced by a young, blonde-haired girl. 

 

'Too late.'

 

What- ? No, no, no - - ‘Schierke! Schierke!!’ Guts screamed back telepathically. 

 

‘Subtlety was never your forte, Guts,’ Femto spoke into his mind, his form breathing notably. 

 

‘Ishidoro! Farnese! Serpico!’ He screamed back to everyone, anyone - 

 

‘Surrender or everyone will die for treason against Lord Griffith!' The blonde girl's voice called out; another figure stood silhouetted, a bow in hand.

 

A black-tinged hand motioned towards the window, Zodd smashing through the masonry clutching Serpico’s broken and bloodied body.

He grit his teeth so hard it hurt, angry and immeasurably angry at his own ineffectiveness. “Bastard....” 

 

“Choose, Guts: your submission for their lives, or the methodical execution of those you care about one by one.”

Zodd’s claw tightened against Serpico’s chest, the latter gasping as every last bit of air was squeezed out of the small form -  
The immobilized warrior’s head swim, refusing to give in, ‘search - something, anything!’ His mind raced from his sword to the Berserker armor, to Schierke and Serpico, his many friends and everything they had sacrificed to get there....

“Ngh-!” Small snaps were made as the wind master’s eyes bulged open in pain, his mouth erupted in a blood-curling scream.

 

If he were to go into Berserker mode.... 

 

Caska....  
The memory of him assaulting her, tasting her blood on his lips her screams of fear as she couldn’t escape, realized her life was at his mercy - the delicious agony as he saw himself in her eyes....

\- No. He wouldn’t make it on time. Even if there wasn’t a chance in hell Griffith would kill all of his leverage against him, he’d still lose people in the process. There was no guarantee he could regain his humanity. No way to say he wouldn’t end up killing those he ended up saving. 

“Good. I see you’ve made up your mind,” the black hawk nodded towards Zodd, who loosened his hold. 

“Guts-“ Serpico’s breath sharply inhaled with rattling, gurgling noises. “I’m- sorry-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back to work, back to work. Might be a bit slow. (Most of you likely saw this plot development happening a mile away. Getting it out of the way for the main show. This'll be entertaining.)
> 
> And next chapter - some mind-fuckery. And not-quite-gore fuckery from multiple accounts. Time to update those tags.


	5. Destruction and rebuilding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: f/m non-prenetrative (?) noncon to m/m penetrative dubcon. Just sayin'. 
> 
> Also: Behelit-->Caska-->Guts killing her with his own hands.
> 
> Calling it. Because while it would be funny with Puck, even though we all know that isn't how Miura rolls. (Also, can't do it in this story unless I want to rewrite it and confuse everyone. I like messing with people, but I'll save it for another fic.)

“Welcome, Guts.” The emperor glanced up from the parchments sprawled around him, his hair in a loose ponytail. Light mingled in the headiness of the room, bursts of flame trying to sustain the dying embers of sunlight which mingled free of the room’s confines.

 

‘Nostalgic’ was the word that first came to mind; the larger warrior dismissed the thought with a light huff.

 

Behind them, the door to the chambers closed, sounds of small, light steps in stride with the door. Quick steps hopped over to the hunched figure, a blond head bobbing to meet eyes immersed in their studying.

“Lord Griffith, the gentleman Serpico and boy Ishidoro have been seen off,” she cheerfully smiled.

Blue eyes flashed for a moment, a homely smile meeting the plain girl. “Thank you, Sonia.” Without sparing a glance towards the guest, he smiles from his documents. “Glare any harder and you’d set this room on fire,” he grinned towards Guts. 

 

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that? Threatening everyone just to lock me away in a room for days.”

 

“Would you have preferred a dungeon?” He glances up from the documents, a playful expression barring any serious reaction from the black knight. 

“Don’t fuck around. You say you have ‘a proposition’ for me, and then you ignore me for a few days. Get on with it.” 

 

The god smiled, the knowing smile of a child watching a wingless bee writhe on the floor with what remaining wing it had. ‘Finally willing to listen.’

You never change. Always very forward.” He exhaled, something like a laugh. “I want you by my side again, Guts.”

 

“You’re shitting me.”

 

“Well, I have to say: I expected a more charged response than that, but no. I am not ‘shitting’ you.” The angelic being smiled again, an expression completely at odds with the vulgarity of his statement. 

“No way in hell,” he tensed.

Blue eyes stayed any movement from the figure. “I’ll make this clear: your comrades, Farnese and Schierke are in my good graces. Or, are they that expendable to you?”

“Fuck you... I’d never abandon my people like you did.”

An enigmatic smile was his only return. “Then the issue is settled. You’ll work for me again in exchange for your friends’ protection and this last living breath. Perhaps, if you’re near enough, you can finish the job while my guard’s down.” 

The larger warrior's mind shifted to Sloan, how ineffectual his weapons were against her. "Funny, experience tells me swords can't kill a Godhand. Am I supposed to believe you can die?" 

"Believe as you may. However: why would we defend ourselves if weapons had no effect whatsoever?" 

'I guess you won't be kind enough just to tell me, huh?' The scarred male set his jaw, pondering what else to address. 

“Fine. Tell me this: what does a Godhand want with us ‘mere humans’? You’re not planning to use this empire as another mass sacrifice, are you?” 

 

“Good guess, but woefully ignorant. This empire is just another tool towards a greater purpose.” His eyes flickered.

“Sonia.”

 

She stared at the effeminate man, a curious smile on her face. “Lord Griffith?” 

 

“I’m sorry I had to cut our time short. I’ll have to make it up to you,” he smiled warmly towards her. “In the mean time, I hope you enjoy your play time with Miss Schierke. She must miss you dearly.”

 

The blond nodded, pursing her lips. Walking toward the door, she jammed her heel into Guts’ foot before running off to the door. The bloodied knight lifted an eyebrow, not sure to laugh or fake pain. 

 

The king faintly smiled towards the door, the sound of loping heels growing more distant. He blinked, gaze shifted wholeheartedly on his companion as it became a shade more playful and coy. 

 

Raising an arm towards him, fingers curled and hand drew back in a simple command: 

 

“Come.”

 

Turning away, legs made graceful strides to gently swaying hips. Undoing the clasp that held his mantle together. Shrugging the cloak off, Guts watched cooly as the material flowed from slender arms as its owner made a lazy waltz towards the canopy, lounging unabashedly across the bedspread.

 

“...” 

 

‘He’s getting the picture,’ the Hawk thought, smouldering eyes breaking through his placid demeanor.  
“I know you, Guts. You’re passionate, loyal. Always have been.” The whitette folded his hands neatly together before resting his chin upon them. “You fought for years for some semblance of a family, even though you knew it would destroy you.” 

 

“Like hell I’d lay with a sadistic bastard -!“

 

“Caska, that one you held so dear... such a shame she preferred death over you, even after you worked so hard to restore her sanity.”

Guts blinked.

 

“Passion is the root of all evil, it seems,” Caska smiled at him.

 

‘No - no, -‘ Gus shivered at the sight of the figure laying on the bed before him. “You -“ He steadied himself, trying to conceal any fragment of fear.

 

The figure kept up its steady advance. “‘Bastard’? ’Whore’?”

 

Without thinking, the back of the knight’s hand smacked the figure against the wall. 

‘No, I didn’t mean it - that’s not Caska - I didn’t hurt Caska -‘

 

The crumpled figure started sobbing, wiping her face with her arm. “Guts- how could you?” She looked up towards him, a Glasgow grin breaking her face in two. “Now be a good boy and let me embrace you,” she walked towards him, her arms outreached. 

 

“As if---!” The knight grabbed the scrawny wrists and wrestled the female to the ground, forcing her wrists into one of his. She screamed, writhing and gasping as she tried to turn away from him, trapped beneath his hulking form. “Who are you?! Answer me, goddamn it!” 

Shoving one of her legs free, she jabbed her knee against his chest, earning a grunt as she pushed one of her arms free and shoved him aside with her wrist and legs.

 

“Almost!” Fingers dove into a pocket, retrieving a knife that was quickly spun and slammed down into an unprotected wrist, grinding itself into the floor beneath. Before he saw he reach for another, a second impaled itself between his forearm. Wiping some blood splatter from her face, the woman he thought he knew says,

“Don’t struggle too hard; you wouldn’t want to cut your tendons.”

 

“You’re not Caska... you’re older than her,” he bit out, latching onto the kingly garb and yanking, gums aching from the ripped cloth between his teeth. “It’s not there,” his eyes kept staring as those words tumbled out, trying to make absolutely sure. ‘The arrow wound from that moronic fish-general and his brother...’ 

Caska ripped his prosthetic arm off as Guts jolted himself back into the fray. Flinging it clear into the other room, the muscle-bound man tried flinging the womanly form off of him without jolting his pinned arm as her nails dug into his flesh. 

 

‘No, it can’t be Sloan --’ his legs clamped onto her, trying to loosen her grip. The form landed a punch to his blind spot, black dots buzzing and splattering across his vision. ‘--I just saw Griffith. It must be him!’

 

“Ha, ha...” straightening her back, she grabs a handful of pocket-knives, opening each one methodically,

“shhkt -“

and stabbing each one near tendons.

 

‘Is this really happening?’ He couldn’t let himself believe it. This land was drugged, a haze of focused numbness, even his own body seemed to give up on him. That was what it was. 

 

Riiiip

Riiiip

Riiiip

 

‘Caska...’

 

“Guts,” her whisper in his ear. “My beautiful Guts.” Slender fingers wove in his hair, kneading the tense skin. 

“Who are you?” The words fell on empty thoughts. All he could think of was the first tender memory of them, an unspoken hope that sex didn’t have to make either of them feel even more alone. 

 

“. . . the one you left behind.”

 

‘I know,’ he wanted to say. Fingers slid further, touching bare skin.

 

Soft skin fell on his lips, a chaste kiss. Arms and a chest fell upon him, fingers unclenched from hair, smoothing over a cheekbone. 

 

“You will never leave me again, Guts.” Fingernails skimmed over him, drawing angry red lines as they cut their way to his throat. Hands on his neckbone, she straddles him, hips slowly sliding over his dick. “I will make you mine.”

 

‘Stop,’ his mind wanted to say. His brain ached. Caska’s eyes looking at him, stunned on that day. A facade of composure, ready to lash out.“Stop...” his voice whispered. 

 

“You knew this would happen,”

 

As they lost sight of her, 

 

“No -”

 

Him catching her by pure chance, diving into the rope, legs kicking. Thinking how close he was to losing her, again.  
All anyone could do was stare as she started raging against anyone - everyone - in her way, animalistic screams as she bit and tore flesh, screaming as she bashed heads into the floor, screaming, only screaming - the screams of those who have given up hope. 

 

“Poor little Guts, running to your death for my love,” she grinned, laughing. 

 

The image of her, arm twisted and limply tossed at an impossible angle, blood caked on her face and clothes, dead eyes screwed on him. He refused to draw his sword, even as she tried, half-heartedly, finally turning it on herself. 

 

‘Why - ’ she whispered towards him. ‘All I am, everything I fought to be less than, a woman...?’

 

“I would never love a bastard like you!” Caska screams, knife aiming for his heart - -!

 

“STOP, CASKA!”

He screams , dizzy head and painful muscles yanking against the knives as blood gushed as muscles tensed and revived, pulling out his wrists, ripping out his legs as his vision grew steadily black - 

 

And he passes out.

 

.

.

.

 

His head and back rested on something hard, his bandaged arms twitching with cold numbness. Guts had a feeling he knew - 

His muscles pushed against knots, binding himself down - -

The figure looked down from above him, legs resting underneath the bound figure. 

‘Griffith- ‘ Younger, oddly. Gone was the arabesque and dazzling image he started associating with the sadistic god. Instead, he was greeted with the spitting image of when the knight went rogue. Catching his eye, his face lights up and he bends down to kiss him, holding him gingerly. The same figure he held from back then... the same figure he once loved. 

Numb, everything felt numb. He had to fight, he knew that. How many times he thought of this scenario, when they were young and still believed in each other. 

Guts stared into those silver eyes, feeling like he had died all over again. Wishing he could have reached out, could have saved everyone. His heart and Caska’s, Caska’s and Griffith’s... 

 

He was alone.

 

“I love you, Guts,” the words couldn’t sound livelier if they were said by a mortician. The figure extricated itself, circling around to his bound captive, possessing his lips and stealing away his breath. He broke away, a string of saliva breaking between them. 

“Give yourself to me again,” the whitette whispered, sliding fingertips from his legs towards his abs, thumb smoothing over and sliding tantalizingly down. 

Guts closed his eyes, refusing the image, even if he didn’t fight it. 

“No?” The emperor smiled. ‘Silly Guts; that wasn’t a question,’ sliding himself further on the still-nude figure, he let fragments of his clothes trail on him, eyeing the shivers and wincing realization as Griffith let his breath ghost over Guts’ neck. Sucking and licking, he played with the muscle underneath. Flicking his eyes up towards him, he smiled, biting just hard enough for a bruise. Guts winced, but didn’t call out. 

‘How delicious... I wonder how you’d hide this from your friends?’ His own erection stirred from the thought. Fingers still smoothed over the warrior’s abs, close but never touching the member he knew was trying not to be aroused. 

“I’m going to fuck you dry, and then I’m going to make you mine,” he breathed, grinding their dicks together. “I’m going to make you mine all over again.” He ground furiously against Guts, attacking a nipple and biting against it, licking and savoring the moans. He backed up, enough to have his fingers stroke over the shaft, up to the head. 

Moving down, he rested against his bound captive’s balls, breathing in, he waited until he caught black eyes. Smirking, dipping down and leaving open-mouthed kisses over the sensitive package as his thumb smoothed over the underside of the dripping shaft. The breath Griffith hadn’t known he was halting caught up with him, leaving him gasping over his toy, savoring it heat as his tongue slid up it, catching the silvery substance and kissing its head, sucking it gently and milking it for more. 

Looking up, he was pleased with the flushed expression he found, and flicked his tongue upward appreciatively, enjoying the moan that came with it, the thrust that was almost imperceptible. 

‘Enjoying this, are we?’ he almost laughed around the head. Bobbing his head, he got as much of him in his mouth, stroking what was left of it. 

Guts winced, getting so close -- “Ungh -- --“ His arms strained, wanting so badly to push his tormentor down and breed with his sinfully delightful mouth --

Pulling back, the king let the cum shoot on his face, coating it and dripping on his chin and cheekbone. 

“Naughty, naughty, Guts,” he tsked. “You should clean up the mess you made like a good boy,” he licked the spent head. Moving towards his face, he took in the gasping figure, capturing his lips and opening his mouth with a sharp twist of his own and prodding his tongue against the larger man’s.  
White hair backed away, leaving both of them panting. Slowly, the scarred complexion moved, tongue tentatively licking over the ejaculate. Griffith cradled the face, holding him near as he sucked his own essence off. 

“Such a bad boy... coming all over me and leaving me unsatisfied,” his own member dripped through his cloths, wet and drooling over his partner’s abs. Guts looked up, licking some of the mess off his lips. 

The king smiles, guiding his lover’s head near his pants. “You know what to do,” he purrs seductively. 

He moans, fingers quivering and grasping hair as he feels a mouth breathe over it, cupping and sucking over clothes. “Fuck - Guts --“ he gasps. The tightness of the clothes just barely holds him back, his mind swimming in pleasure, not realizing how hot he was already. He moves the head back, letting out a pleading moan. 

Sliding out from his spot on the chiseled torso, he goes towards the slowly inflating dick, hand undoing his pants. Sliding fingers over his partner’s member, he kisses the cherry-red tip, casting lust-filled eyes up towards its owner.  
He reaches around, breaking eye contact as he starts fingering himself, mouth breaking open - “Ungh -“ he moans around the feeling, pressing against his walls and pressing his sensitive spot quickly, ass greedy to swallow up the dick in front of him as he forced his mouth down on his audience, trying to lube him up for his eagerly awaiting hole.

Guts moans, thrusting with abandon from the breathy gasps and needy sucking, Griffith gasping from the assault, breaking away from the staff. Grabbing the dick, he moans as tip touches his ready hole, and plunges it down. 

They both moan, Guts gasping as Griffith wantonly cries out, beating the bound figure down as his walls stretched on the welcome intrusion, spasming and squeezing for the spunk it so desperately wanted. Guts bounced the figure, thrusting to try to get every inch in, precome splashing with every thrust as that velvety-wet heat consumed him. “Fuck!” He moaned, his thrusting as deeply as they could as he coated those walls, their owner still bobbing as they sucked up every last spurt. 

“Gu-G-uts!” His partner moaned, his own untouched dick coming all over the bedded figure. He gives one final gasp, leaning on one wrist as both men try to catch their breaths. 

 

Griffith is the first to move, leaning up and detaching himself, shivering as the penis slides out of him. Sliding up, he kisses the drowsy Guts on the lips, arms encircling them, as they welcome sleep together.


	6. Lost, found -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter!
> 
> What...? I know. I know, been sick for weeks straight. Reports, semester review with my bosses, peers, underlings... all of whom oversee the progress of those I work with and grade me appropriately. Bastard father showed up on presentation day to pretend he was actually present in my life, pretend he was somehow important. 
> 
> Happy holidays, you. Have a Christmas-themed Berserk video. For those of you and your dogs who haven't seen it.   
> https://youtu.be/Yop5UGDOY3I
> 
> ...Heh. That says "yop."

“--You oversized bully! Wake up! Wake up!

 

You’ve got to wake up,” the sound - Puck? “You’ve got to wake up. You’re my friend...” 

 

The bundle of sheets groaned in response.

“Guts! I knew-! I knew-!” His weeping did a complete 180 and turned into cheerful hiccups. “I knew nothing’d kill you!!”

 

He poked his head up from the bed, glad for the small decency of sheets. “....” 

 

“Are you hurt?! Are you okay?! Speak to me!! DID YOU GO MUTE?!” The elf flew around Guts at a speed rivaling a hummingbird, surveying every inch he could see as Guts tried defending his last shred of decency from prying eyes.

 

‘Flyswatter, flyswatter--‘

 

“Huuuuuh? What is this?” Said figure zoomed closer to his friend’s neck.

 

‘Fuckdon’tsayanythingabout-‘

 

“Did you hit yourself there...?” His fingers went out to touch the bruise -

 

He jerked his waist out of reach. “No. And if you know what’s best for you, you won’t say anything about it.” He wanted to get out of bed, make a move to leave (like Puck has never seen him nude)...

 

His muscles cramped in a not-too-subtle way. 

 

‘... of course it isn’t that easy.’ 

 

....And there was his migraine.

 

“Puck,” he called, undoubtably interrupting more heartfelt sentiments, “I need to know what happened these past four days. Where is everyone? What happened to them?”

“Ermmmm--“ the fairy started, head tilting further in a comical pout. “I was able to find Doro, Serpico, and Farnese, but not Schierke or Iva. Oh-!! I almost forgot--!!” The fairy goes to retrieve a strand of gold from his waist...

‘Hair? -- Oh.’ 

 

Following Schierke’s footsteps, Farnese could open telepathic communications between multiple people. It was a crude method, similar to radio telecommunications in that its only privacy was in those few who could “tap in” to such communications and isolate its locale. It was a feasible skill, one that could be sustained for many days because of its user’s shared burden with the communications host.

It took some help from Puck to tie the strand around his finger, but they managed to tie a knot and get it on his only hand.

 

“Farnese?” It felt like he was calling in the dark, a blind man searching for a rippling pulse in oblivion.

 

“--Guts-?”

“Guts!!” 

“Guts...?”

 

He exhaled. “Glad to hear your voices.”

“Where have- What have- -you- - been? -doing? Have you seen - Hey! I’m talk- master? -ing!!”  
”--We were worried.” Serpico finished where both Ishidoro and Farnese had been clamoring over each other. 

 

‘Where is everyone? What happened?’

 

‘They knew where we were!’ Doro yelled back. 

Farnese spoke. ’--It was too fast. They were watching us, they knew when to pick us off. We were all separated, and then-‘ if Guts could have seen her, doubtless she would have been staring at him. ‘What happened, Guts?’ 

‘...’ All he could think was of chess pieces. Farnese knew the art of war, was once its knight. All move according to a king. All exist for the king...

 

He dropped his legs with that thought. ’I’m heading out. Where are you?’ 

 

‘A house towards the south entrance. Funny thing, they escorted us out, but only as far as the actual castle.’ Serpico clarified. Guts could imagine the blond scratching his head to those words.

‘No, you can’t leave! Not without Master Schierke and Ivarella!’

‘Oh, yeah. I almost forgot about them,’ Ishi’s snort was almost audible. ‘-Ah! Hey! I need that!’

‘It would be best if you stay put. We’re paralyzed without our comrades, but risking you leaving when we can’t get in...not without purpose. You are closer to the people who took them, the people who know where they are.’

 

‘....’ His heart sank with thoughts of last night... 

 

’It’s for the best...’ Warm the bed of conquest, let him take you, screw you into the mattress and leave. Or better yet, wake up to the person you let fuck you over.

He could fight, mangle the one he swore loyalty to... Worst case, he’d fail, one of the two hostages would die, the others could be easily recaptured and replace the last corpse for any slight offense. Best case, he’d have to fight the madness of the zealous townsfolk who saw the charismatic leader as their god, their protector, without any hope of reclaiming those lost among them.

 

...He had to trust the common thread in this: Griffith. Not indefinitely, no, but just until he could find some way out.

A cool, small hand touched a bicep, Puck’s worried voice reminding him of he wasn’t alone. “Guts...?” And his thoughts, ‘Guts is scaring me again.’

He made his face soften, forcefully relaxing his scowl. “Sorry, Puck.” 

 

‘Guts, what’s going on...?’ Farnese carefully worded her sentiment, caution hidden somewhere between her words. 

 

‘You need to get out, get far away from here-‘

 

The door. 

The weighty iron creaked, causing the black knight to break into a sweat, ‘It’s him - ?’

Puck quivers, “wh-“ as an arm grabbed the fairy, glancing towards the window - too far. Anywhere, anywhere -- !  
\--The pillows. His hand shoves Puck between the pillows and a squeak, stalling anxiously, what to do? Fake sleep? Coat-of-arms frizbee? ---Calm down.

The doorway to the inner sanctum rang their salutations, the figure undoubtedly there. 

 

Movement. 

Step,

Memories of last night, of everyone, Schierke and Ivarella...

by step, 

‘Dammit all, the hair!’ His fist crumpled the sheets a bit, refusing to look at his hand, the visitor, anything that might give a tell. 

by step...

‘Someone’s coming,’ Puck’s mind softly carried.

 

‘Ivarella, Schierke...’ his mind carried their names, an invocation to some fleeing strength as the lighter form kissed him flat on to the bed, fingers digging into and pinning their counterparts still. 

 

Guts grunted, jaw tightening and teeth setting as the fingers dug their way to tendons, cramping and stilling any movements. Soft clothes brushed against his bare skin, unhampered by armor... He urged his mind to be quiet, afraid of any careless thought - 

‘Guts - Guts, what’s happening?’ The blond’s voice had a chill guarded within it. 

‘...Ivarella, Schierke; Schierke, Ivarella,’ he urged his eyes closed, beginning to drown all thoughts in the chant. ‘...No, not yet.’ His eyes opened briefly, glacial eyes watching. Calculating, always calculating...

 

‘Puck,’ his mind reached out - breath on his neck, teeth nibbling as a free hand traced over his chest - 

 

‘Puck, don’t look.’

 

Wet lips kissing over every bite, warm gasps of breath. Hips grinding against the nude Guts, teasing him as his lone hand bowed, tendons locked above his head. The pale, cold hand smoothing over a warm nipple, calloused fingers shifting over velvet skin, nipple hardening from the ministrations. 

 

‘Guts....’ Puck’s voice quivered in his mind.

 

The emperor broke from a deep kiss, breathing heady as he moves towards the nipple his fingers played with, tongue brushing over it. “Did you ever tell your buddies,” he slowly rocked their hips together, heated precum dripping between them. “...How I would tie you down, fuck you and use you, make you moan my name? Fill you up with my spunk as I threatened to leave you there if you didn’t please me?” 

 

‘Guts had sex... with Griffith?’

 

“Ngh--“ Black eyes shot open at that, fear flooding his senses.

 

“It’s all your fault. You saw this coming,” lips brushed over his captive’s, hips unrelenting as they made Guts’ body ache for attention, “you were too kind to your men. Despite all your harsh words, you couldn’t make them abandon you. Now they’re suffering for your ineptitude -“

“No - that’s not true,” he gasped out. ‘I never wanted anyone to follow me,’ his mind whispered out. 

 

“True!” The demon growled out above him, grabbing his legs and exposing him. “As true as the loyalty you swore to me!”

 

Puck’s voice broke his thoughts, startlingly emotionless. ’Guts is loyal to Griffith?’ 

 

He felt his heart break. 

 

He barely felt the fingers press against him, shivering as their coldness pierced through him and teased the depths, a soft kiss on his lips. 

 

“Ugh -!” He bucked, moaning as his prostate was brushed from within. 

 

“Shh,” a kiss near one eye, another. Fingers smoothed over those nerves, a soothing tempo set.

 

Warm comfort set in with those fingers, enough to keep his mind from feeling the full weight of depression. ’Saliva...?’ He closed his eyes. No, he wouldn’t let himself think about it.

 

Griffith’s eyes lowered, some expression of loss faintly present. Bowing his head, his lips attach to the inner curve of Guts’ leg, warm tongue licking, kissing gently. Slowly, his fingers experiment, another digit pushing up against him, knuckles blooming and burrowing into that warmth. Kissing the slowly raising erection, he nuzzles against it before leaving wet kisses along its tip. 

 

Entrenched fingers flick over the sensitive bulb, hips jerked against him, a soft pleasure in the black eyes that return his gaze, mouth open and chest heaving as his ass squirmed against him, squeezing and pushing against the digits. A smile came to the god’s lips, free hand gripping the erection as the other continued pushing against Guts’ sensitive spot, slowly dragging his fingers out to roughy hit against him. 

 

“Ugh--! F- Griff-!” Guts grit his teeth, trying to contain himself.

 

“Yes, Guts?” The angelic being shoved his fingers against that special spot, removing them and savoring the passages spasming under his attention, enjoying the gasps that stopped any coherent words.

 

“J-j-just-“ He burrowed those fingers in. “Fuck-!” Guts screamed as his vision blanked out, wound up so tight, his erection stopped by that hand - !

 

“Damnit- !” He gasped, the fingers slowly removing themselves again. “Either fuck me-!” He moaned, unable to catch himself, “- or let me cum!” 

 

Fingers ran him through again, expanding and harshly rubbing against him, reducing the larger male to shameless moans and gasps.

 

“My name?”

“ - !” He moaned in frustration, squirming as he tried to sit up, reach for the hand that held him back - 

The hand filling his ass quickly pulled out and slammed down on him. 

“Eager, aren’t we,” his words were heady, lips askew as his lungs tried to get enough breath. “How do we address our kings?” He licked his lips, half-lidded eyes smouldering with lust. 

“....-!” He wrenched a shout from his captive, tightly squeezing the trapped penis. 

 

“Come again?”

 

“L-- lord... Griffith,” he ground out, teeth aching as he knew it was late, too late, to explain any of this to everyone. 

 

“Good boy,” the arm that forced him down withdrew, flipping him over. Clothes still on, he pushed up his clothed erection against Guts’ backside, the wetness dripping on him as Guts groaned in expectation. Grabbing oil, the emperor let it drip over his partner’s back, some of the liquid sliding between shoulder bones as the rest of it being swallowed by the waiting hole with some willful force. Undoing pants from the member that pushed against them with need, he lined them up and slowly pushed in - 

 

Shivering, the oil slicked him just barely, -enough - as he forced himself through the next ring of muscle, deliciously reminding him of their first time he broke that barrier- 

He continued pushing through, savoring the tightness that gave him as much room as he needed - the king moaned, fully encased in Guts. 

The knight hissed, pushing back. “Just fuck me already,” the girth tight in him, his ass tightening around the feeling of something dripping deeper into him making him impossibly hotter as his own member dripped with need...

The smaller male smiled appreciatively, kissing a shoulder blade as he started pulling out, the feeling of being vacated forcing him to relax his muscles, make the re-entry easier. 

 

Without warning the full length was thrust in, scraping and pushing against the spot that shook the warrior’s lone arm, making each thrust a challenge to keep his head up as his hips were pushed back onto Griffith’s, the position ensuring his dick would go untouched. 

 

“D-d-damn it,” the larger man gasped. “Close --!”

 

“Good boy,” Griffith moaned, hand going over to grip the weeping member. ‘I trained you well,’ his next hit rewarded him by getting his prostate dead-on with an unbridled moan. The king thrust a few more times, eager to claim those depths as he ground in deeper, climaxing with a soft cry. His partner stirred, shifting, as his own need begged for completion...

 

His sheathed erection pulsed, and he knew his ejaculation wasn’t finished, throbbing as his movements slowed, stroking Guts’ sweet spot as he slowly let go of the shaft, Guts coming with a scream as his arm collapsed and he felt the dick inside him pulse and come one final time before removing itself. 

 

 

Black eyes fought to keep themselves open, the warm afterglow threatening to consume him. The king slowly got off the bed, hands reaching out for extra support as he made his way into the next room...

“Puck,” Guts gasped, his eyes trying to find the fairy. “Puck.” 

Scared eyes looked out behind a pillow, frightened...

“Puck, please, go,” His heart started tearing, fearing the implications of that demand. 

 

“It’ll be a while,” he started... “a while, until I can see everyone. I’ll find Schierke and Ivarella. I hope soon....” He glanced over towards the next room, fearing for his own sanity, his friend’s safety... “Please, tell them this: If-“ he shuddered, “when I get everyone safely out, and I can’t... you will leave. You will cover your asses and get out safely.” He growled back, eyes leaving no room for discussion. 

 

“Guts..?”

 

“GO!” He hissed, baring his teeth. The fairy flew off, the knight’s teeth catching the strand of hair and snapping it. ‘I couldn’t face them,’ he shut his eyes, trying to fall back on memories of happier times, feeling that every memory betrayed him with some sting, some loss.

 

The figure stepped back into the room, sitting down on the bed. 

 

Slender fingers carded through his hair, hands moving to embrace his head, placing it on a clothed lap. Lips pushed against him, opening the slack mouth and dripping an awful substance in his mouth. 

“Shh,” the king whispered, hand moving up to still his head. “It’s sleeping medicine,” he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 

He fought against it, the feeling of the syrup falling back on his tongue unpleasant and made him want to fight, his jaw held steady by the firm grip as he could feel the medicine sliding down. The muscle-bound knight closed his throat, stalling for as long as he could as he fought the grip, succeeding in a second hand stilling him. He had to breathe! He had to open his throat, but it would mean whatever it was getting in him. He didn’t want to trust him, anything that was done without being asked was suspicious as hell.

 

He gasped, feeling the medicine and his saliva almost choke him as he coughed his airway open, a barely voluntary swallow happening.

 

Griffith held onto him, loosening his grip somewhat as the minutes passed, watching sleep overcome the abandoned knight...

 

 

‘Now, for the next task.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HolyhellIwroteninepages
> 
> Likely (?) more sex next chapter, showing what happened to Schierke and Iva. Hard to write porn without using medical terms and still have it be consistently hot. It should be an unwritten rule everyone should have a medical background and still have sex be as perfect as in movies. (Ha!) 
> 
> Just curious... is there anything anyone wants to see sex-wise in this series? (some item, sex position, fetish? I like pretty much anything but furry, scat, and vore.) Leave a comment or message me if you prefer. It'll either be in an upcoming chapter or a separate one-shot. I get practice and write more dynamic material and you get the porn you want. Win-win, yes?
> 
> See you next chapter.


	7. Dance, Herodias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy after-holidays, everyone! 
> 
> Some Christmas dinner jokes. Because family:  
> What is Michael Jackson's favorite time?  
> \--When the big hand touches the little hand.
> 
> Why does Michael Jackson like the sales at Walmart?  
> \--Because everything's half-off in the boy's department.
> 
> Interesting note: my sister's current boytoy worked in a long-term mental facility. Basically said he couldn't talk about rainbows without worrying about someone wanting him dead. Psychiatrists visit each patient for 2 minutes each day before leaving. Meds. They are legally arrested indefinitely after 20+ consecutive hours in said facility. Everything you think about mental facilities... it's pretty much true. And he's still interested in this family. Go figure.
> 
> Back on topic: Post-Golden Age anime reboot confirmed! Fall 2016.  
> ...And Mirua's back in his shell after a new chapter. See you next time, SpaceIdolm@ster. (Also: Wicker Man, man. Wicker man...)
> 
> Slower updates, but more numerous when they're here. Pacing and getting the important details gradated without being disingenuous to the universe can be hell. God-damn, obsessive-compulsive disorder, this is senseless porn with a clear ending! There's no good reason to rewrite the same scenario four times...

He still saw that dream. He knew what it meant, watching her back as she turned and walked into the boat. Watched it slowly disappear underneath the waves.

Somewhere far, far away. Safe, where no-one could find her.

Them, too. The procession of the dead. If he stared too long, he knew he’d start walking with them, too.

 

\-------  
He had to fight. Death was a hellish nothing... Life was fighting. Fight for those who still needed him. He knew that from the beginning.

With that thought, he opened his eyes. 

 

.  
.  
.  
.  
He had to find and rescue Schierke and Ivarella. But where....?

The sound of a quill scratching over parchment made the knight reassess his thought.

‘If that’s who I think it is -‘

‘He wouldn’t just say ‘oh, okay. Here are your friends-!’’

What would he want...

‘No...’ Last night’s memories went through him like ice-water, pinpricks in what should be numb indifference...

 

...He could always beat the crap out of him until he surrendered the information. Even if the bastard didn’t, he could still buy enough time to hide, find somewhere safe to search from. Similarly, if he only incapacitated him, he could save face and not have to slaughter thousands of vengeful villagers. 

Win-win.

...No. Even that has limitations. Leaving friends with an enemy... no matter how safe he might be, that was no guarantee of their safety, no guarantee vengeance wouldn’t be done against them. 

He had one shot. 

He got up, out of bed. Black eyes scanned the room, steps moving rhythmically. Flimsy metal insignia, sheets, his metal hand lying on clothes... Well, wasn’t he lucky? 

The sleeper-hold, then. Done from behind. Quick. Minimal struggle.

He casually walked towards the figure, stopping just a few feet short.

The quill paused, blue eyes casting a sideways glance. 

‘Breathe,’ Guts convinced himself. He had a couple feet before he could reach out his hands....

“Good morning, Guts,” a warm smile. The emperor moved to stand up - 

 

‘NOW --‘ He grabbed Griffith’s neck between the crook of his arm, pressing the form against him as the god struggled against him, elbowing the knight’s ribs and kicking against him, trying to reach up and pull the arm away - - !

Gradually the white hair slumped over, fingers losing more of their hold before they dropped altogether. 

Good.

He bound the unconscious figure, rummaging for any weapons and keys. If he was lucky, he could find the room Schierke and Iva were trapped behind. Three sets of keys, two loose. Two daggers. He almost wanted to hack off some of the lengthy white hair for rope... it would have been ironic, though his self-preservation told him better. 

He tossed the body on the bed, checking to make sure he was still breathing before running. 

He needed to find them....-!

\---------

Who would know? Where would they be safest? ‘Sonia,’ the one clue he had. 

Servants... 

Following the wing down, he came across some signs of life. A broom closet, a couple of maidservants chatting idly inside. In spite of their fear of a man twice their size asking where “possessed armor” and “someone named Sonia” was, they pointed him away before finally telling him exactly where Sonia’s room was after a well-aimed glare. He pulled her along, insurance against false information even if she’d be a useless hostage.

Well, so much for subtly.

He’d have to find the girls quickly, get them out even quicker, and hopefully stall them enough time to get to safety.

A smile. 

Dragonslayer or no, he had been wanting to fight for a while.

\--------

They reached the room, the maid whimpering pitifully as his hand shifted on her neck. 

Swallowing, he opened the door....

 

The colors overwhelmed his eyes, and in the middle of them all, the same bobble-headed girl he remembered stared back at him...

Releasing the scrambling maidservant, he strides towards the prophetess...

“Y-y-you’re not allowed here - -!”

He grabs her hair, yanking her up a solid two inches to his height. 

“Ow-ow-ow-ow! Stop!!”

“Schierke. Ivarella.” His tone left no room for discussion.

Her watery eyes shifted toward a bundle of fabric, a sleeping form on a wooden palette. 

His metallic grip loosened, dropping the teen and strands of blond hair. 

He walked over, shaking her by her shoulder. “Schierke, wake up - -“   
\--Where was Ivarella?

“He’s the one! Get him, get him, get him!” Sonia had fled, pointing Guts out before escaping entirely. 

“Halt! Surrender or die!”

‘Fuck,’ grabbing the little witch and throwing her over his shoulder, he turned towards his adversary, unsheathing a dagger.

Weak enemies or not, the longer he took, the more enemies that would catch up to him. This was his only chance - he had to find Ivarella. No, he couldn’t risk it... There would be no end... Schierke was unresponsive.

He had to make a break for it. 

Giving his fiercest battle-cry, he lunges at the enemy in an upward stabbing motion as the lackey dodged left, giving Guts enough room to pass right by and continue running. 

 

The hallways were littered with enemies as Guts veered and careened his knife between slashes and stabs, blood flying as he stabbed someone’s eye out and side-swiped another’s neck. 

‘Keep going - keep going--!’

The end of a hallway - - a window - could he make a three story-jump? -- Do it.

Smashing through the wall in a hailstorm of brick and mortar, he braced himself for the impact as he grabbed onto his passenger.   
He bit back a scream as what little leg he used to stabilize his fall with crumpled under his weight.   
“Shit-“ he grunted, trying to pull himself forward... he had been too occupied making sure he didn’t fall backwards he injured his leg. ‘Stand up, stand up-‘ He bought time, he couldn’t lose it now!

Shifting most of the weight onto his good leg, he limped as quickly as he could towards the outer castle wall...

A couple of arrows stabbed him in his back. It didn't feel good against his lungs, but he didn't care to treat them, didn't care to remove them to find out how bad the hit was.

“Halt!”

Almost there...

He can see the walls. He can make it. 

Exhausted eyes saw the charger coming, braced as he was pushed aside a couple feet. Swiping away at the enemy he couldn’t bother to glance at, a scream welcome as he kept stumbling, painful steps stinging his vision. 

The wall. He’s at the wall, passing through the gateless entry.

Where could he go? Was there anywhere? He planned for Schierke to be conscious, damn it! All there were was houses, houses filled with people...

All he could think of was that place, where he knew everyone had left. 

No, he couldn't go there. Jeopardize them, let them see him like this, if they were even still there.

Even as his mind protested, his swollen ankle carried him there. His back, crisp with blood as the pain assaulted him with each step, each breath a struggle for air.

Carefully, walking her through to that house. 

 

Laying her gently on the floor.

 

Keep his one eye open, knowing the second he passes out the world could change.

 

Watching as colors swirl, noises he couldn't discern seemed to take over his world as he fought not to pass out....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Needs more BAMF Guts. I miss writing his bad-assery. 
> 
> Next chapter's sooner, going out with same inappropriate family to watch Star Wars.


	8. Blasphemous Rumors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soon...

Do you remember when we first met, Guts? I was so nervous... happy to live isolated in the forest with Mistress Flora and Ivarella, away from the world’s pain.

You were always so unfair, Guts! I hated it, the way you always fought so hard for people, even though it hurt you. I hated how alone you felt, maybe because I felt that way, too... so I wanted to do what I could... for everyone.

If there’s anything I can do, to stop everyone’s suffering--!

For all that you’ve given me . . .


End file.
